Thursday, June 29, 2006

Fields And Streams Of Unconsciousness…



Regardless of how much one whines and complains about the lack of things that make you happy – sometimes absence does make the heart grow fonder. Sometimes one grows fonder of having one less responsibility. Sometimes one is glad to not throw out withered word-petals at a funeral procession that’s already passed you by.

Your grief hangs over my head like Louisiana humidity.

My concern for you swaddles my heart.

Me?

I wade through the fields and streams of unconsciousness

Not knowing if I should turn back
or continue to plod forward

Me?

My concern for you
replaces my usual unspoken words
with the ones
I say out loud to you
everyday

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

I Am Robert Downey Jr. On Robert Downey Jr.



Dear Courtney,

I abhor The Market. I HEART fresh produce. I HATE The Beer Garden. I like seeing random pig-fuckers meandering about. I HATE that somebody scratched the holy fuck out of the birthday CD that you gave me. I lubby wubby wub the fact that Huey Lewis And The News is playing on my iTunes right now. I'm sheepish of the fact that sometimes I get so drunk that I buy thirty dollars worth of songs off of The iTunes music store and don't remember it the next morning. I DO like avacadoes(sp?), though - I'll stop by on Thursday then, Yesh?

If I was a character on LOST, I'd be the skinny-getting-fatter, Asian/Irish guy writing about being stuck on an island with a bunch of retards, and wishing that he could rape Kate, Claire and Locke.

P.S. You forgot your sunglasses at my house and I drank them.

k

Friday, June 23, 2006

If Somebody Tells You That You Seem A Lot Younger Than You Are...

They're really calling you immature.

I am backwards/infantile/H.G. Wells' Time Machine-style -

I am the vanishing dot on old black and white tv screens.

I am an inoperable CANCER, drunk on Vodka/Redbulls.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Go see Joel Beers' new play at Stages Theater in The O.C.



An excerpt from The Don Juan Project
(used with no permission)

ELVIRA
No--I’ll grant you, that’s foul: well played lad. But, no, this rank bouquet is far more pungent. Smells like sweat, tears, blood and longing, accented by strangled desperation and stunted ambition laced with a sticky film of broken, useless dreams.

SGANARELLE
Oh, that! That’s poetry!

POET MODERATOR
Ok, Roger, thank’s for kicking off our monthly drunken poet symposium with that wonderfully concise, reading.
I want to welcome everyone tonight to our monthly poetry clambake where we all have the opportunity to share, through words, the joy and tribulations of what, our dear late founder Kevynn Malone, once described as our lifelong relationship...with alcohol. Though friends hurt you, lovers betray you, leaders lie to you and your pets die, there’s always one relationship we can count on in this world.

Snapping of fingers.

The Don Juan Project

Monday, April 24, 2006

Nick Nolte Vs. Dracula...



Today looks weird. Everything’s all whited-out and pasty-looking.
And it just feels weird. Like how airport lobbys or auto mechanic shops feel. I need to go somewhere after work and hopefully whatever’s following me will lose my scent. But where should I go?

The movies? Fuck the movies. I never go to the movies.
I just went to the mall right before Easter, and it made me remember why I hadn’t been there in like, two years.
I could go for a walk but I walk all the time, so screw it. I walk like Phil Jackson anyway. No. I walk like Tiny Tim but with two gimpy legs. The cute Tiny Tim who blesses Mr. Scrooge. Not the gay, dead one that got married on The Tonight Show.
There are no real comic book stores, no arcades, no toy stores, and beers are too expensive at strip clubs. No fun.
I’m afraid to take my car too far away from home – she’s a very fragile girl and is made of balsa wood and her insides are put together with magic beans.

Seriously, I can’t tell what’s happening, but it’s happening – I might just wake up all of the sudden and have to repeat this day over again, so I guess I might as well enjoy the weirdness for now and not be such a creep creeped out by creepiness. I should go home and read a book. Good, old-fashioned words on paper by one’s self.

Yes.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Please Don't Ever Let Me Publish...

Was just at a big, corporate bookstore getting a birthday present for a friend. There was a very bored-looking man sitting behind a table full of books written by himself. He wrote a book on The Angels. Not the kind with wings, but the team that hit a ball with a bat. He checked the time on his cell phone. I felt sorry for him. I kind of wanted to talk to him out of pity, but his fucking book was about baseball - what the hell am I supposed to do? I couldn't even properly feign interest in the subject matter. Nothing for me to ask, nothing for me to roll with, so I bought my book and left the store. I was thinking about how crappy the guy must've felt - I mean, nobody was paying attention to him. When I got home I realized that the friend of mine that I had just spent thirty dollars on, on an Orson Scott Card book was a HUGE Angels fan and probably would've LOVED a signed book by the author. I'll tell my friend this later. He'll ask me whom the author was. I'll tell him I don't remember. I kind of suck. There's a moral in here somewhere. Oh, wait - maybe that was it...

I Would Look A Lot Cooler If John Cassaday Drew Me...

God, fucking somebody stop this phone from ringing...

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Bubba-Ho-Tep...

I work next door to a plastic surgery center and have not seen one person come in or out of there. Either the plastic surgeon sucks really bad or they kill everybody who sneaks in. Maybe I'll go snooping around their trash and then I can make soap out of human fat like Tyler Durden did in Fight Club.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

I'm Too Lazy To Kill You...

I ordered a pizza.
Got home.
It looked and smelled great.
Like arcades or Chucky Cheese.
but it tasted a little...off.

They forgot to put cheese on a fucking pizza!

And then who was too lazy to go back because they were on break and didn't want to wait for another thirty minutes?

And who thought that it was pointless to go back because nobody there spoke english and maybe I might've said something that was translated to "please, don't give any of that horrible cheese."

And who now thinks that's probably why the pizza was only $7.99 with three toppings.

I ended up shredding cheese on it myself. This helped. No, it didn't.

This whole experience was obviously painful enough to warrant writing about it.

My head hurts.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

JLA Boom Tube...



Today I'd been feeling a little bit under the weather so after getting home from work I bought a bag of oranges and a 3 month-old South Korean baby. So far, I've finished two of the oranges and am almost completely done drinking the blood of the baby.

This, combined with my uncanny recuperative powers, should put me in tip-top shape by tomorrow morning.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Fat Free Judas...

Sometimes days just start out totally sucky.
There is no guarantee that the day will get any better.
There is only the guarantee that drinking will make all of this go away by midnight.

Friday, April 07, 2006

My Flag On A Forgotten Moon...



One of these days, Earth will be a dried-out husk.

Human beings, if not totally extinct - will be the galactic equivalent of the Coelacanth.

Regardless, even if The Internet is a dichotomous tool of information and withering brain cells, I hope that someday, somewhere, there'll be a faraway alien offspring steeped with freshly-learned Homo sapien Language/History/Culture/Sociology 101, that will get a big fucking kick out of the myriad nothings that I've pooped out on Fat Free Milk.

You know, after we've all died off and stuff in like, 71 more years or so...

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Keyboard Shortcuts: press Ctrl with: B = Bold, I = Italic, S = Publish, D = Draft



I can never fall asleep when I want to
I sometimes fall asleep by accident and then end up staying up even later than I would've normally
I miss my dead cat more than I miss my early twenties
I spend more time reading about comic books online than reading them in real life
Today, I understand more, which means that I speak in public less
In 2006, so far, I groan 3/4ths of the time when I have to bend and grab something
In 206, I groaned a lot less
I am drinking a Bud Light and a Vodka/Redbull/Pomegranete
I am the best bartender ever
I hate bartending
In the twenty years that my work has existed, they've never made as much money or had as many young, crazy fuckers as they do on my Sunday nights
I make beautiful things happen for everybody else, but all of the beauty that I get ends up drowning inside my own head
I'm glad to be alive and still here
It's 2:05 and I finally feel awake
Taxes are like Herpes but don't involve a pretty face
The Arcade Fire reminds me of me living in my first three apartments - this is a wonderful, fucking horrible thing because who wants to be reminded of how amazing it was to be so energetic, Naive and completely fucked-up?
My girlfriend is asleep right now all wrapped up in blankets on the living room floor, she made me watch a horrible movie, she earlier was organizing a bunch of closet stuff and was transferring a box of pictures to a new and smaller box - this didn't necessarily make me feel any way in particular - this just made me not want to look through or talk about the pictures
Sometimes I sway in front of the keyboard
I very rarely write anything worthy of the imagery that this projects
one should attribute these things to Carl Orff, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Bill Gates, Hitler, Jack Kirby, Jesse and Gary Owens, Chris Ansari, Adam Langlois, David Hamamotto, Lee Adama and Tom from MYSPACE
Last night I saw groups of cars threatening to shoot each other in the park across the street from my house, and tonight I watched rain fall in the same place
Right now
I'm exactly where you are today...
thinking
these
thoughts

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

I Never Lie.



Well, no - not really...

Sometimes not when writing, anyway.

When visiting my girlfriend's work today, I was getting out of my car when an Amish couple asked me for directions to McDonalds.

I am not kidding.

I was of course, completely polite and cordial, but even as I was giving them the directions my mind was working in overdrive and totally excited but absolutely dumbstruck...

Amish people in Orange County?

And McDonalds?

I just don't get it.

This is my life.

Ha Ha Ha's

followed by many

?'s ?'s and ?'s

Monday, April 03, 2006

Mean.

Instead of bartending for eleven hours, why can't one be writing for the same amount of time?

Friday, March 31, 2006

We Fought For Lincoln...And The Ford Won...



Funny thing about
the lack of parental love
is that
as time passes
and the more that
you actually
get a hold
of what happened
or didn't
and when
you actually
get the ability to
put yourself outside of the box
and forgive
time has passed
and you've usually
just learned to forget to remember

by the time that you realize that what really mattered back then
when things were huge
when things were earth-shaking
when your parental Pearl Harbor was constantly being bombed
and you were just fleeing the constant fire from the sky

now
so much time has passed
you've lived the majority
of your life now without this person
how does this make you feel?
trying to place blame is like Brazil 2006 Nazi-hunting
like saying light on Earth from a galactic star
was cooler way before everybody knew about it
like loving a writers work posthumously
and telling others that he was a lot better
when he was alive

Thursday, March 30, 2006

If Comic Books Were Beers - Then I'd Sell My Liver On eBay...



Right now my house smells like the mall.

Earlier today, TARGET sounded exactly like being on a cruise ship.

Also, I see a horrible piece of writing in my future.

See? Here it is. The post, not the picture, you penis.

Doctor Doom And Darth Vader Are Brothers...

Dude.
Seriously.
Totally un-funny today.
un-everything today.

I guess this would make me a Communist, also.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Man Killed The Dodo And The Dodo Killed Man...

For every ten psychotic thoughts
I have one moment of clarity

For each bone that I break
A muscle will get stronger

Today
When bored and dull
Tonight
My dreams will become lucid

Mirthless socially
Clever in my own head

I am the earth-quaking stompings
Of a million giants with ADD
And Restless Leg Syndrome

I am a creature not stirring
I am a quiet mouse

I am continous smoldering embers
And the Napalm of Dante's Inferno

I am the sun, the moon and the stars

Eventually killed by Avian Bird Flu

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Bye, little girl...I'll miss you.

how much
is too little
to make
that big of a deal of

when a big thing
that seems so small
in the grand scheme of things
gets taken away from you
are you being
selfish
unrealistic
do you straighten up
wipe your misty eyes with your wrist
or do you swim with it

when something withers

does somebody hear the tree fall in your heart

I like to shut off certain aspects
of my emotions because
I am either too old
tired
or have already
worked it around in my head

been there
done that
felt that

everything acknowledged
not forgotten
but no need to be an emotional CUTTER

scars heal
scars remain, though

everything’s just tragic
and always beautifully overlooked

everything is nothing
and sometimes
my little
nothings
mean
everything
to me

Rest in peace, "60"

Love, Kevynn

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Chico...

My dog smells like a baby.

A baby who shit his pants.

Citron This...

There's something wrong about accidentally finding a bottle of vodka in your cupboard.

It's kind of like The Gods on Mount Olympus chucking down ice cream cones to retarded, screaming fat kids.

(Maybe I shouldn't have written that out loud.)

So Much Hair On His Palms, He was Chewbacca's Hand Model...

Jesus, work is boring.

Last time I did anything this repetitive,
I was ten...and then couldn't touch it again for like, a week.

George Romero vs. Barbasol...

How come you never see zombies with facial hair?

or have I not been looking hard enough?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Hello, Mr. Poetry Bastard...

and so what do you do?
you try
you try to make it better
but nothing happens
the gods on Blog Olympus don't get back to you
rain
fire
silence
are all happening at once
now that I'm forgotten

serves you right
dumbass

for feeling comfortable

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Kill Me Now, Please...

It'd be cheaper, at least. My fucking teeth are always cracking, my goddamn bones are always breaking, my eyes fucking suck, my knees are shot - Somebody just kick me dowm some fucking stairs already.

Fuck.




Found On "The Office" Website...

Kevin Malone
Thursday, January 19th, 2006

"Kevin Malone, Accountant that is bald, over-weight, often scowls. Plays in a Steve Miller tribute band and is a very subdued man."


There's a guy named Kevin Malone on The Office?

I'm going to sue. He should be an Accountant that is balding, under-weight, often scowls. Plays in a POISON tribute band and is a very subdued man.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006



Walking After Work...

in the parking garage,
I had a hard time deciding
if it smelled like flowers
or urine.

Is this weird?




Saturday, March 04, 2006



Brokeback Mountain: Starring Lenny And George From Of Mice And Men...



You know, I really wouldn't mind the whole-fuck-it-I'll-just-save-my-money-and-buy-a-small-piece-of-land-in-Colorado-or-Wyoming-and-live-on-a-ranch-thing.

A small place.

Open areas. Ominous clouds on the horizon. A couple of horses wearing sweaters.

A monkey ranch hand family to do all of the chores.

Zombies to help maintain the banana groves.

Pens of small children to feed to the zombies.

You know - nice. Peaceful.

Just a simple ranch filled with clothed horses, monkeys and zombies.

Relaxing.

Away from society.

A break from normal life.




Thursday, March 02, 2006



I Need To Run My Remit Report And Get Out Of Here...

A birthday attack is a type of cryptographic attack which exploits the mathematics behind the birthday paradox, making use of a space-time tradeoff. Specifically, if a function yields any of n different outputs with equal probability and n is sufficiently large, then after evaluating the function for about different arguments we expect to have found a pair of different arguments x1 and x2 with f(x1) = f(x2), known as a collision. If the outputs of the function are distributed unevenly, then a collision can be found even faster (Bellare and Kohno, 2004).

Digital signatures can be susceptible to a birthday attack. A message m is typically signed by first computing f(m), where f is a cryptographic hash function, and then using some secret key to sign f(m). Suppose Alice wants to trick Bob into signing a fraudulent contract. Alice prepares a fair contract m and a fraudulent one m'. She then finds a number of positions where m can be changed without changing the meaning, such as inserting commas, empty lines, one versus two spaces after a sentence, replacing synonyms, etc. By combining these changes, she can create a huge number of variations on m which are all fair contracts. In a similar manner, she also creates a huge number of variations on the fraudulent contract m'. She then applies the hash function to all these variations until she finds a version of the fair contract and a version of the fraudulent contract which have the same hash value, f(m) = f(m'). She presents the fair version to Bob for signing. After Bob has signed, Alice takes the signature and attaches it to the fraudulent contract. This signature then "proves" that Bob signed the fraudulent contract.

To avoid this attack, the output length of the hash function used for a signature scheme can be chosen large enough so that the birthday attack becomes computationally infeasible, i.e. about twice as large as needed to prevent an ordinary brute force attack. It has also been recommended that Bob cosmetically modify any contract presented to him before signing. However, this does not solve the problem, because now Alice suspects Bob of attempting to use a birthday attack.

The birthday attack can also be used to speed up the computation of discrete logarithms. Suppose x and y are elements of some group and y is a power of x. We want to find the exponent of x that gives y. A birthday attack computes xr for many randomly chosen integers r and computes yx ? s for many randomly chosen integers s. After a while, a match will be found: xr = yx ? s which means y = xr + s.

If the group has n elements, then the naive method of trying out all exponents takes about n / 2 steps on average; the birthday attack is considerably faster and takes fewer than steps on average.


There are a lot of potential band names up above, me thinks.






Read On A Message Board Re: Zach Braff's Newest Directing Gig...

"Garden State was a cinematic pyrmaid scheme to get our people laid, between him matisyahu and larry david our perception has shifted to ridiculously wealthy, marijuana smoking ultra sensitive emotional sorcerers."

I can't stop reading this.

I don't know why. I think I love it, but am unsure...




Tuesday, February 28, 2006



Yo Te Llamo, Madre Cass...

I swear, the alcohol's eating away at my already-atrophied brain. Some mornings there are Word documents that I don't remember writing. Sometimes there are new desktop shortcuts. Sometimes I'll create a new blog that I always end up erasing.

Last week I found four pictures on my desktop of a naked woman that had to of weighed at least 800 pounds...

I'm hoping that I thought that the pictures were funny.

Seriously, because you never know about some people when they're drunk...




Monday, February 27, 2006



I Just Bought The Powers Definitive Hardcover And The DEMO Trade...

Anyway. Just read this on Warren Ellis' Bad Signal mailing list.

(I was reading older ones that I hadn't gotten around to. This might've been a month old)

This was about TV shows that he had recently checked out - and one review said:

LIFE ON MARS: wasn't as bad as I
was expecting. In fact, it was clever,
surreal stuff in places. The short
version is that a 2006 cop hit by
a car finds himself in 1973, and
still a cop. (The title refers to the
Bowie song, playing on his iPod in
2006 and on the eight-track
cassette in his car in 1973.) (I
believe there was a Japanese show
with a similar conceit a year or two
back.) 33 years extra knowledge
of criminology gives our boy a
certain edge, but the "polite" and
procedure-driven police service
training of 2006 is no bloody good
in 1973 Britain, when policing was
a lot different, a lot more ground-
level, more basic, and, yes, more
violent. John Simm, in the lead, is
a good actor, and Philip Glenister
is fine as his charmingly monstrous
boss Gene Hunt. Worth a go.


God, what a great fucking idea. I mean, it's not like fucking GOLD - but how rad is that, anyway?

I'd like to check it out, but my mind would be swarming while watching it and I'd ruin the whole experience for me. Much like I just did with my newly-purchased and soon-to-be-eBayed Ultimate Avengers DVD.

p.s. Does anybody know what the hell I'm typing about half the time? And even if you don't - do you mind?

Tuna.

Oops, sorry. I meant to say "goodbye".




Saturday, February 25, 2006



Malone Shoots Fellow Hunter...



It sucks to be stuck
in a body
and not
be able
to just float around freely
like some kind of
creative Santa Claus

Some writers
are content
to treat the Internet
like sooty chimneys
but I can’t do this anymore

I can’t do the once a year thing
can’t do the whenever I get around to it thing

I am not a good writer
I am tolerable at best
you get the discounted coupon’s amount versus the overall cost

I am last year’s Tsunami
I am Katrina
I am slippery mudslides
I am city-leveling earthquakes
I am Nino
Nina
The Pinta
Fresca Soda
The SATAN Maria

I am Red Tides and methane emissions
I am Carbon Monoxide poisoning and Oxygen Bars combined

I am everything that killed the dinosaurs

I am the inevitable Avian Human Flu

My mind is the reverse SETI

I will constantly be searching for intelligent life at home in my brain

I want to NOT be the light that burns twice as bright burning half as long
I want to be the result of constantly splitting atoms

ALL THE TIME

I’m getting there




Wednesday, February 22, 2006



My Life As A Comic...



First time that I told jokes on stage was after high school in 1993. I was with friends at The Comedy Store in Los Angeles – I was only 18 years old at the time and got in with a fake ID that said that my name was Mario Fernando Jimenez and that I was 5 foot 6 inches, had short hair and lived in Anaheim. I had about four beers or so when the MC after the show said that an open mike night was going to start up and that you could sign in at the manager’s booth and –

No. Just kidding. The only stand up I’ve done has been everyday, reluctantly before work.

Ba Dum DUMB.

Anyway…

Seems that lately, not since the 90’s have previously deceased villains and defunct crime-fighting sidekicks been coming back to life in mainstream comic books.

We have Bucky Barnes, the once kid partner, coming back to haunt Captain America. I’ve noticed this because I’ve grown weak as of late and actually purchased some Captain America comics. I’ve always hated the Star Spangled Bastard. He represents everything that America stands for (e.g., ultimate gayness and lame dialogue and tepid stories that seem like they were written by our current administration.) Alien threats! Terrorism! (A.I.M.) The Red Skull! The Cosmic Cube grants unlimited power to its holder! Arrgghhh! Gee, Cap – don’t let the bad guys get it! Life as we know it could end! Wheeee!!!! Fart. Boring. Now that I look up at the beginning of this sentence, KID PARTNER of Captain America sounds kinda homo-suspicious doesn’t it?



Speaking of suspicious relationships – The once dead second Robin, The Boy Wonder is back now too. Remember? He was also a little boy who an older, sweaty man took as his ward. Yeah, he’s back – and nobody’s happier than Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Manor loyal butler. That means that he can break out the old 8 MM camera again. (He was getting tired of watching all of those old reels of the both of them wrestling together in The Bat-Cave.)



Back from the dead. Now, whom else? Colossus. That big, old, metal-lookin’ Russian bastard from The X-Men. He died and came back too. He likes to draw. This means that he’s gay too.

Oh yeah – Spiderman also! Yeah, of course you don’t know that he died because you actually have a life…no…wait – no, you don’t. Here I was going to make fun of myself for getting all trapped up in soap operatic monthly episodes that sometimes deal with people that fly around and wear spandex – but YOU, yes YOU – watch TV, don’t you?
Yes. You do. And that shit is built for morons, so I take back what I was going to say. Shit, I’d rather help Wonder Woman try to find her invisible jet in the morning after a drunken night at Superman’s house than watch The George Lopez Show. Yeah, so Spidey’s back. He ain’t dead no mo’.

Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern – the guy who was named after an appliance. The guy who was lucky that he didn’t find a crashed alien that gave him the powers of The BROWN WASHBOARD. Yeah, he’s back too. I don’t like him either, yet I almost DID buy a comic of his today only because at the end of the story Batman tried on his Green Power Ring. The whole giving-in-to-peer-pressure that GL was giving BATS had a whole TRYING-REEFER-FOR-THE-FIRST-TIME aura to it. And…AND, check this out – I almost bought a variant cover of the issue. Variant issues are something that the comic book companies do to make you become an Uber-Geek and to further deplete your already-skimpy wallet. They might draw a different picture on the cover and only make a 1:10 ratio of it available. This means that you spent the same amount of money for something that is the exact same in the other, but same issue. Ten bucks or...let’s see? $2.50? Kids could spend the mark-up on booze. Talking about comics has never helped me get laid. Being a writer has. So, what if I were a comic book writer? Comic book writers need girlfriends. Not unless you’re into belly fat and scruffy beards with shards of Big Mac lettuce in them. Thank god that I have one. (A girlfriend – not a Big Mac.)

I heard that The Invisible Woman AKA the girl from The Fantastic Four is supposed to die soon. No big loss. Ay, now here’s the rub – I think that having an invisible wife would be great. Awesome, Fucking spectacular amazingly right-on – BUT…she’s actually supposed to be hot in the comics. If she was ugly, turning invisible while having sex would seem advantageous to both parties then, huh? You wouldn't have to get up to turn off the lights. AND Mister Fantastic does have ELASTIC powers too. Can you imagine that? Your ugly wife is watching Extreme: Home Makeover Edition in the living room and you don’t even have to get up out of your chair to have sex with her? Just stretch the ol' penis into the other room. Too bad you couldn’t erase her vocal cords either, though. I’d take a mute companion over an invisible one any day. But, do her invisibilty powers make it easy for her to cheat, though?

“Honey I called for you all day. For like, six hours and couldn’t find you!”

“Oh. Sorry dear. I was gardening naked while invisible in the backyard and had my iPod cranked up. I guess I didn’t hear you.”


Actually, who would need to cheat – when you could turn invisible? You could follow home sexy movie stars and just masturbate while standing on their bathroom counter.



The Vision died and came back, sort of like in a programmed/resurrected consciousness kind of way. He was an android from The Avengers who had a wife who turned crazy and it turns out that she imagined the whole thing and that they never actually had children anyway because she was Bat-Shit crazy. DUH. He’s a fucking robot. I’d imagine sex too if I was married to A TALKING DILDO.

Donna Troy was dead for like, a year or so and then she came back. Who cares? I’ve never read anything about her. I know that some super heroes were probably sad. And then happy again. Then she named her daughter Helenov, or something like that. (waiting for you to get the stupid joke)

Jean Grey/Marvel Girl/Phoenix comes back all the time.

Blue Beetle came back, but is supposed to be a different guy than Ted Kord. What kind of situation is this? How much of an effect does this have on the regular nerd? Would your reaction be like, a “oh my god – nobody could EVER replace Liberace!” or a “Why does Darren from Bewitched look kind of different – ah, who cares!” type-of-thing?



Firestorm died saving everybody from some big thing. Some other guy inherited his powers. Nobody reads about this guy either, so everything’s the same, so sit down, that-one-guy-in-Georgia-who-owns-his-every-appearance. SIT DOWN, NERD.

Speedball dies in the upcoming Marvel: Civil War and will inevitably be coming back sooner or (hopefully) later. The only people who care about this are the fidgety people who are parking your cars and stealing all of the change in your ashtray for their nights fix of Heroin and Coke.

Oh yeah, and Hawkeye. He’s an Avenger also, who shoots arrows and died. He’s been popping up all sly and Boogeyman-ish lately. So, he’s back. Hopefully, when I eventually land a comic book writing gig – I can have his arms and limbs amputated. And then I’ll write a whole 58 page comic special dealing with him trying to roll away as a Hawk tries to peck out his eyeballs.

Funny. I was going to write about people in my life that I never write about and it turned into this. I was going to give them codenames and everything. But this was funnier and unfortunately longer.

So this is what you get.

Whatever I was going to write about before is DEAD.

DISCO dead.









Those Def Jam Fighting Video Games Would Be Fun To Play...

I feel like a dork listening to Snoop in the office.
I will not nod my head to the music.
It just seems like it would look...wrong. Just wrong for me to do it.

Very THE OFFICE. Very guy listening to NWA in his car at the beginning of Office Space. Very...not the place to appreciate a good song. Maybe with friends and drinking, but...here?

Ugh. This place just reeks of THE WAVE:LOVE SONGS FROM THE COAST or whatever the hell that staion's called.

I need me some Kenny G or some of that John Tesh, nigga!






A Lack Of Color, A Little Soul, A Mess Of Blues...

Girlfriend cries out

I stop typing
....
...
..
.

Honey what's wrong? Look at all these animals around you...

they woke me up

I'm right here honey. Over there. Writing. (puts covers closer to her shoulders)

(she makes sleepy, pouty face)

I'll turn out the light. (then kisses her forehead)

(Her pouty face subsides. Her eyebrows become unforrowed)

Good night, sweetheart.

(mumble, mumble)

Good night, honey.
.
..
...
....

I start typing.

Girlfriend dreams.






This book is made up, of course, but the story I had Bonnie tell actually happened in real life - in the death house of a penitentiary in Arkansas...

MALONE, KEVYNN T

TITLE: ( y'know? I was going to make a list of what I got at the library today - but I stopped due to a combination of my laziness, the existence of efforts for minimal hee-haws, the soup that I'm making on the stove, my lack of focus, my guilt for not paying attention to the girlfriend after she was so understanding after I've spent the last two hours re-writing and re-typing my small play that won't be included in Joel Beers' play that I should've given to him a week ago and now she's fallen asleep, movies to be watched, comics to be read, early hour employment nastiness, thoughts to be thoughten, bringings to be broughten, beers to be forgotten...)

I'm here.

Trying to waste time how I want to.




Monday, February 20, 2006



Oscar And Felix Should’ve Worked More...

In the last three days my girlfriend and I have barely seen each other.
Roommates see each other more.
This is how it’s been for the last five years between us.
BUT, I do work two jobs now.
But, anyway – I had a quick question –
When people ask me how long we’ve been going out – should I say, like, two and a half years to be more accurate?






My stupidity is purposeful and extremely well crafted...

I dreamt that my friend’s mother and her mother’s friend had read this website and I freaked out because I had previously written in an entry saying that the mothers friend was tall, fat and ugly or something like that.

And then the mother’s big friend kissed me.




Thursday, February 16, 2006



So, say that you made ten bucks an hour somewhere. Anywhere. What’s that break down to? I’m horrible at math, but what would every ten minutes that slowly ekes by be worth to that working person?

So, say that this working stiff spends an average 8 hours or so-or whatever amount of time, looking at the clock until he gets to go home.

This person’s exhausted. Their job is hard or boring – maybe both. This person now wants to relax. This person likes to go to bars and so then goes to his neighborhood tavern, sports bar, etc. thispersonthisperson

He likes beer. Lets say that the average price of a bottle of beer is 4 bucks. How many beers does this guy drink in the first hour? Let’s also just say that he’s being social on an average level and that this person is not interested in a member of the opposite sex that night. (Drinking would be more expensive and their duration at the bar would increase also)

He has three beers in that first hour and then four more in the second. (Does that sound like a lot to you? They’re Amstel Lights and he’s an alcoholic.)

7 beers total @ $4 a pop = $28

+ $10 in tips (cheap bastard) = $38 to drink for the night.

So the guy made $80 bucks at work – take out $12 for taxes and lets take off three for various SS and all of that crap. $65 bucks for his workday then.

This means that the guy worked 8 hours for $27

Is that like, $3.37 an hour?

It’s basically, a crappy fast food hamburger
A comic book w/tax
A tip
Change you get back from buying a big box of kids breakfast cereal
A small coke at the movie theatres
3/4ths of a pack of cigarettes
A side of bacon
A movie rental
A Library fine
That’s almost the price of a beer! Without the tip. (You cheap bastard)

What does this all mean? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m bored at work and can’t wait to get some drinks afterward.

I don’t like Amstel Light, by the way.

And I drink way more than that and am never by myself and I tip a lot better.




Wednesday, February 15, 2006



I Want To Be As Famous As Pat Sajak But With Beautiful Hair Like Nuno From The Band, Extreme...



That is totally not true.

I DID once, have long hair - sadly, yes...almost exactly like his.

This was 68 years ago.

Anyway.

...Oh yeah, an hour ago I was offered to be an extra in a movie right down the street from my house through a friend. They said that they needed a tall, handsome guy to be in the background or to stand around shivering drinking hot chocolate that tastes like tepid donkey diarrhea or something like that. Thank you for pretending that I'm handsome. Thank you for thinking that I'm tall too, Brandon-Mr-Six-Foot-Two.

I said no. He really didn't believe me that I didn't want to do it. I said that I had a writing project that needed to be done (which is true). He asked me if I had a deadline. I didn't lie. I said no. That I just didn't want to do it and that I'd rather write instead.

This, ladies and gentleman, makes me feel like a million dollars. Years and years ago, I would've dreamt for the opportunity to be "discovered" or to just even be around small productions, blargh, blargh, etc...I had pictures taken once. Which still get pulled out every now and then by drunken friends and screeched at HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gone to extra casting calls, etc.

NOW? I just want to sit home write, read comic books and drink light beer.

Acting? Gross. Vomit. Poo.

Writing? Excellent. Virgins await me in heaven. Candy for everyone.

Just kidding. Fuck that. Of course I would still like to act. Hell yeah. I'm a complete idiot on stage, on camera and in front of a microphone. I'm every Easter ham ever ingested. I am Jack's lack of dignity. I am Jack's expired prescription of Ritalin.

But writing is easier - and you're just as much of a helpless whore by doing it.

This just means that I'm lazier.

And, by the way - I just got done emailing a friend back that works for a famous Talent/Lit agency in L.A. and that wants to help me out with submissions, etc.

I like this.

BUT, still - if comic book companies would ever pick up the scripts and synopsis' that I've sent them - than I wouldn't need all of the kind bastards all across the universe to help me turn into a butterfly, now would I?

Gay butterfly.

Now watch Brandon get a speaking role and then become as famous as Kevin Federline and then never speak to me again.

And then I'll be a fat, baby endangering Brittney Spears.






Anti-Media...

Okay...let's pretend that certain dumb TV programs, movies, music, etc. don't exist.

And once we nominate something, it actually WONT EXIST ANYMORE due to our combined magical powers.

It's that easy. So that the next time that you're bored or stoned off of your mind and watching a sitcom that you've always hated, or forced to see a movie that sucks or exposed to somebody else's crappy music - you can remember and say, hey - I forgot about Fat Free Milk Anti-Media! I'm NOT really watching, listening to this, etc.This is a figment of my imagination!

You can yell at it - I KILLED YOU! YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!

That's all it takes.

People don't count though, bitches...

I get to nominate one first...

Ummm...




Monday, February 13, 2006



Say, Thank You...

I just wrote something ten thousand times
more boring
than this sentence

I erased it
because I don't want you
to feel ten thousand times more unsatisfied

Than now




Saturday, February 11, 2006



I Only Went To Target To Get Toilet Paper...

DRESS SHIRT FOR WORK -
ST. PADDYS DAY MENS SHIRT
ST. PADDYS DAY MENS SHIRT FOR MY GIRLFRIEND
TOILET PAPER
3 PLAIN WHITE T-SHIRTS
X BOX SALE VIDEO GAME
WHAT THE HELL IS SCOTT MGA RL?
A DVD FOR THE GIRLFRIEND
A TEA POURER
A TEA CUP
STATUARY 2 @ 12.99
STD? (WHY IS IT CALLED THAT? GROSS) PILLOW 2 @ 2.99
CASTROL GTX
PHOTO FRAME
SHADOW BOX
STD PLLW CVR(S)

TOTAL? $126.86

I AM A GAYWAD, HOPELESS, BROKE LOSER...




Thursday, February 09, 2006



Here's a copy of the email you sent through the International Campaign for Tibet...


















Message: Dear Google,


As a Tibet supporter and someone who wishes to see increased human rights and
democracy for Tibetans and Chinese living in China, I am dismayed to read about
your decision to begin actively censoring the content of google.cn on behalf of
the Chinese government.

Your decision to support the repression of Chinese and Tibetans seeking
alternative information and voicing alternative views is a sad day for the
people of China and Tibet and makes Google complicit in the Chinese Communist
Party's shameful distortion of the truth of its own history in Tibet.

I have read your Company Principles, "Ten Things Google Has Found to be True",
and would like you to read "Ten Things You Won't Find to be True on Google.cn":

1. The consistent non-violent efforts of the Dalai Lama to bring peace to Tibet
through understanding between Chinese and Tibetans.

2. That Tibet was independent before invasion in 1949 and has not always been a
part of China.

3. That hundreds of thousands of Tibetans have died as a result of the Chinese
occupation.

4. The abuses of human rights, the imprisonment of hundreds of nuns and monks
and the destruction of monasteries in Tibet.

5. The abduction of the 6 year old Gendun Choekyi Nyima, 11th Panchen Lama of
Tibet, by Chinese forces in 1995. He has never been seen since.

6. The UN Investigator on Torture's Beijing statement of 2/12/2005 that there is
a "consistent and systematic pattern of torture" against Tibetans in China.

7. The number of Tibetans who die every year trying to cross the Himalayas to
escape into exile.

8. The damage being done to the Tibetan environment by projects the Tibetans are
forced to accept from Beijing.

9. The destruction of large parts of the holy city of Lhasa to make way for new
Chinese development.

10. The population transfer of Chinese to Tibet, making the Tibetans a minority
in their own land.

The internet is one of the few ways the Tibetan people can seek justice, voice
their opinion and have their view heard by others inside China. Google has
joined the Chinese government in robbing them of that opportunity. I ask you to
reconsider your decision to be a partner in this evil act.

Kevynn Malone
kevynn75@hotmail.com







I have no idea what a meme is, but I saw Sarah Brown doing one - so I thought that I might do one also because I'm a follower/lemming/automaton/poo-head...

Four jobs I’ve had:

Puppeteer at an amusement park for toddlers
Pizza maker (like, three times - I think)
Content writer for an internet animation team
Bartender

Four Movies I can watch over and over:

True Romance
Empire Strikes Back
Fight Club
Shadowlands

Four Places I’ve Lived:

Alta Loma, Ca.
Placentia, Ca.
Fullerton, Ca.
My Own Sick Head, Ca.

Four TV shows I love:


The Twilight Zone
The Real World
History Channel
Discover Channel


Four places I’ve vacationed / Who’s Almost 30 But Has Never Left The Continental United States Except For The million trips to Mexico...

Austin, Texas
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Park City, Utah
Fullerton, California

Four of my favorite dishes:

Bud Light
Pickles
Olives
Processed Meat

Four sites I visit daily:

Fat Free Milk
Golden Fiddle
Things Overheard In New York
Newsarama.com

Six places I would rather be right now:

Downtown Sante Fe, New Mexico
Echo Station, Hoth
Market City In Austin, Texas
The Tower Of High Sorcery At Palanthus, Krynn
Brooklyn, New York
Wayne Manor, Gotham City

Four bloggers I’m tagging/slightly alienating:

Wil Wheaton
Warren Ellis
Kevynn Malone
Maddox Jollie Pitt




Wednesday, February 08, 2006



Dear MY COMPUTER,



I’m glad that you’re feeling better now and that the nice man fixed you. You’d been gone for a long time and I was starting to get worried. At first I was lonely, but then, as time passed – I realized how much more I was reading and then didn’t really miss you as much. I realized that you were a leech and like a technological equivalent of a fat bag of weed on a coffee table.

You are a tool of convenience, MY COMPUTER. Nothing more. Effective immediately, I will not talk to you, I will not play with you or shoot the shit with you. I will USE YOU for email, writing assignments, eBay, iTunes, Fat Free Milk and for porn. That’s it.

Thank you.

Kevynn Malone




Tuesday, February 07, 2006



Four Year Old Niece Says To me...

Her - Say, "Ow, my hip!"

Me - Ow. My hip.

Her - You're not hip. You're old.




Monday, February 06, 2006



Like Fallujah Mortar Fire...

I have a farting problem.

I honestly think that there's something’s wrong with me.

I’m scared.

What if my ass pops?




Thursday, February 02, 2006



Percent Daily Values Are Based On A 2,000 Calorie Diet...

I hate feeling nostalgic.
I remember when I was younger, and I didn’t hate nostalgia so much.
Man...those were the days.




Wednesday, February 01, 2006



Teddy Roosevelt said:



"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

And my worthy cause will be to get very drunk tonight.

Thank you, Teddy. *clink*




Monday, January 30, 2006



Reverse Medusa Meets The Man With The Achilles Brain...

Girl cut me off this morning. My car almost slammed into hers. I started cursing at her and ended up at the same light as her. She was going to make a right at the light and I was going to go straight.

Her window starts to go down. I start to get excited because I think that for some reason, she’s going to say something to me. Yell at me. Why? I don’t know – but I’m about to whip up a verbal shit-storm when –

I see her and…she’s really pretty.

Doink.

And she says, “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Chapman Street?”

And do you know what I did? What I said to this distracted, horrible bitch of a driver that only seconds before had put my well-being and maybe my whole life in jeopardy?

You got that right. I totally changed in an instant.

Before I knew what was happening, a big smile crept up on my face, my voice changed and I became very, very helpful. I even apologized because I couldn’t give her better directions.

Yeah. (sigh)

Now...there’s nothing wrong with me. This is wrong with all of us. You, me and everybody, dogs and cats included too.

Pretty people get away with EVERYTHING.

And we let them.
We run faster to help them.
We pretend we’re interested in what they’re saying.
We marry them.
We have kids with them.
We watch movies with them in it.
We let them cut through us with fiery swords.
We let them walk all over us.
We let them into our lives and we love it.

We let them.

Yes, we do.

And I must not be that pretty then...because people give me shit all of the time.




Wednesday, January 25, 2006



In Da Office. Word Up, Sucka.

I am doing so much nothing today that it's messing up my shit.




Monday, January 23, 2006



The Slow Assassination Of Kevynn Malone...

I swear to Zeus that the girlfriend and the various domesticated animals in the house have conspired to not ever let me have a proper sleep. I'm an insomniac, Restless Leg-syndrome Nerd, and all together Mr. Nightmare-sweaty-scream-in-your-sleep anyway, but...how many times can a guy be woken up when he's savoring that last two hours before he has to get up?

Throw a pillow by my head?
Fucking cats using my head as a Twister mat?
Dog burrowing in the sheets Like Cheney does for Oil?
Landlady measuring windows outside?
Girlfriend deciding to ask me questions? Now?

I AM ASLEEP.

Was, actually.

It's hard enough to get anything that mimics human speech patterns when I'm awake.
When I'm asleep? You get what it sounds like when live baby piglets get thrown in campfires...

Go away and let me be Jabba The Hutt.

Fuckers.




Thursday, January 19, 2006



The Sky Looks ILM Fake...

he checks his pockets for scraps of paper
he swears he had things to do
but there were no papers

so now what
he thought
what am I missing

will these things
hit me in the head when I'm at home
will I have to get back up

are they that important

no
no no no

out of sight
out of mind
or out of mind
out of sight

no

no no no




Monday, January 16, 2006



ATTENTION:

Men over 40 that wear colognes that smell like fish, ass, grass and the cigarette smoke of dive bars?

STOP IT. Thank you.


Also, I earlier had put my half-eaten submarine sandwich in the office fridge. Later on, I went back to grab a Coke and noticed that the whole fridge now smelled like my sandwich. I wondered if anybody had taken something of theirs out of the fridge and then were grossed out by the now over-powering smell of my Sub.

I felt like I had just silently farted in a crowded elevator.




Thursday, January 12, 2006



At Least They Have Jillian Barberie...

You wake up this morning from having horrible nightmares to Kevin Federline being interviewed on The Fox Channel. You try to go back to the nightmares. The day can only get better.




Wednesday, January 11, 2006



1,2,1,2,3,4
[whistle]...


It's kind of funny.

I've been bored at work and reading, reading, reading various crap on the internet.

I think to myself, "I should write something, but then I'll have to go back to Blogger, type in my password, wait, and then blah, blah, blah, It takes too much time."

So I go to Blogger anyways and...Oh shit - DON'T have to type in my password because last time I was on it, I checked the little box that asked if it wanted it to remember me. Which, apparently, I guess it did.

And so there I was with a blank space in front of me, no delays, everything that I complained about in my head didn't exist and...so I typed...this.

This?

Hmmm...It's kind of like somebody giving you a free pass to Disneyland, but then when you ride the Tea Cups - you shit your pants.




Monday, January 09, 2006



The White Mountains...

The phones are acting weird today. Calls disconnect. I can hear a click when I get on the phone – kind of like somebody else is getting on the line right after me. There is also a faint hum in the background that I never noticed before. The computer’s are sluggish and I can see the silhouettes of shuffling feet from beneath the door, but every time I yank it open, there’s nobody there.

When you drive home tonight – watch out, try to keep your eye in the sky, avoid being tailed, lock your doors and turn out the lights when you get home.




Thursday, January 05, 2006



My Car Smells Like Cat Pee Too...

It’d be convenient if I had a computer attached to my head. Then I could write about stuff while it was happening instead of sporadically firing away when time allowed.

But considering how much I fall down when I’m drinking – I guess my Head-Computer would be broken a lot.

I also never carry eggs or light bulbs in my pockets for this reason also.




Thursday, December 29, 2005



Bees Make Honey. Cows Make Milk. Couples Make Babies. I Make Messes…

For 29.95 you can have unlimited calling to my heart, and for just 9.95 more –I get unlimited access to your pants.

My head is burning up. My brain feels like last nights charred campfire remains. If I shake my head around a bit, little flame tips poke out of my ears.

Two of my fingers on my right hand – the ones that you make a “Peace” sign with – are numb. Am I having a stroke? Or is this God’s way of telling me to stop being a Hippie?

The Chinese are starting another Space Race. Bin Laden’s hiding in a cave on the moon. Jason Todd and Bucky shower together. Ra's Al Ghul bathes with The Cosmic Cube.

You give me everything.

I give you nothing.

This is how it works.




Wednesday, December 21, 2005



Jesus Gave Me A Twenty Dollar McDonalds Gift Certificate And A High Five...

Christmas would be a lot more fun if people were only allowed to give each other only certain things. Like, you would only be allowed to pick gifts that fell under certain categories like:

WILD ANIMAL
ROBOT
DISGUSTING, YET STILL INTERESTING PORN
EXPLODING THINGS
SMELLY
DEAD




Monday, December 12, 2005



Deus Ex Machina Piece Of Crap...

Writing will be infrequent due to my computer always shutting off by itself whenever I try to start it up. I guess I need to have it looked at. Geez, take the TV instead.




Wednesday, December 07, 2005



Ten Years Ago I Was Jumping From Moving Cars Onto Front Lawns And Hurting My Ankles...

So I guess my type of activities hasn't changed much even if I have a little? Maybe this means that I've been drinking for too long? BUT, I did used to hurt myself sober also. I used to climb tall things and then fall off or have friends hold me over great heights for no reason. I used to sleep with random psychotic women. I'd always be bandaged up because of doing something impulsive and stupid. Not with the women, I meant. Well...maybe that too, I guess.

So, if I were to ask the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO what he thought about the ME FROM NOW - what would he say? Would the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO be so disappointed that he commits Hari-Kari? Would he vomit all over his horrible Hawaiian shirt? Would he hit me over the head with his Coors bottle?

Or would it all make sense to him? Seriously. If I sat down with the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO, would everything that I’m doing now make sense to him? Most of the same friends, living relatively in the same area, five year relationship with an amazing girl, drinks too much, still thin, still collects comics, talks too much, writes a bunch of crazy and useless crap on the computer, two jobs that both suck…

Would ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO be disappointed?

Nah, I guess not then, huh? There’d definitely be some things that surprise him but overall I don’t think that I’m doing anything today that is totally out of the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO’s future predictions or speculations.

Now…is this a good thing? The fact that I can’t overwhelm or surprise the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO with what I’m currently doing? Yes, I am going skydiving next week – but that doesn’t count. That’s not like living in a farmers hut in New Zealand studying ancient Hobbit Dung. It’s not being a personal assistant to Joel Silver's personal assistant.

So…is this kind of …sad? Does this mean that these last ten years have been a series of very small adventures, joys, misfortunes and accomplishments as opposed to drastic and bold changes of life?

Am I walking like a foot-bound China Man instead of taking Yeti-like strides?

I guess the ME FROM NOW will have to be asked this by the ME FROM TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE. Heh. Who knows? Maybe he won’t even bother to ask me anything. Maybe he won’t care. Maybe he’ll be too successful to spend time questioning past choices. Or maybe he won’t be around to ask, if you get my drift.

Anyway…so if I was TEN YEARS OLD and then asked the ME FROM TEN YEARS AGO from back then these same questions…would I have to ask them by shouting into the crotches of my parents?

Just wondering.




Monday, December 05, 2005



The Hands...

of tragedy have big, fat, fucking sausage fingers.




Saturday, December 03, 2005



Dead Like Me...

So, I confirmed my skydiving trip. In nine days exactly I will be plummeting to the earth after ejecting myself from a plane. I will also be shitting my pants and screaming like a weaned-but-still-wanting-to-be-breast-fed-by-mom-Maddox-Jolie.

This will hopefully, be one of the smartest things I've ever done.

Next to marrying my life partner, Danny, of course.




Thursday, December 01, 2005



An Ambitious Lucifer Morningstar Creates A New Cosmos Modelled After His Own Image...



Attractive lady with a kid stopped by my office asking for my help to find a medical office somewhere in the building. First thing I did was make an obligatory cheesy joke, worry if she saw the comic books by the stapler and then get up and trip over my lunch that was on the floor by my feet.

I showed her a couple places that could be the office that she was looking for. The whole time trying to help her out even though I know absolutely nothing about everything and everybody that works here never talks to each other anyway. But what am I supposed to do? Say, “Sorry, I’m relatively new to this complex and I’m still unfamiliar with this place. You can use my phone if you would like, to help you find the location that you’re looking for better?” Perish the thought that I would ever calm down for anything and think things through. Perish the thought that I would not come across like a big dork. Dorkdorkdork.

Her kid was making fart noises with his mouth. I was leading her in the wrong directions. Nobody was remembering about Afghanistan. Nobody was caring about the kidnapped Panchen Lama. Farts and wrong directions. Fartfartfart. We just wandered around until she struck out on her own again. I am writing about this for no other reason than to say that I’m a bored penis and that tripping over my lunch was the only funny aspect of this long-winded story.

Oh, and the medical office that she was looking for is…three doors down from mine.

Goodbye.




Wednesday, November 30, 2005



The More That I Talk To You...


the more that we'll argue
so I won't
talk
not argue

I wish that we could talk
like the other people do
but that would mean
that we were just like other people

so
if I had a choice of
us
not being able to communicate as well as we should
versus
the communicative bunch of guttural cows
then
I'd rather be the one who stirs the stew
than
be the main ingredient of it




Friday, November 25, 2005



Miyagi Walks...



Girlfriend's talking to me about shopping sales.

I'm pretending to listen.

I think that I was going to talk about Captain America, Hitler, The Red Skull and Kanye West.

The Red Skull hates black people.

Today in almost-gonna-take-a-nap-before-work shift-no.2-world, I was nippy-eyeing a gossamer image of Mike Myers on the television and realized how uncomfortable he must've felt during the Hurricane Katrina telethon. Even though Kanye was wearing his heart in his vocal chords - and even though I loved that he was speaking the truth - it was still fucking funny. Too bad I never came up with the idea of being Kanye West and a friend being Mike Myers for Halloween. All we'd do all night is just stand by the keg at parties and play out that bit. I'd stutter, "George Bush hates black people" as Jocks would try to elbow me out of the way to get to the keg tap.

"George Bush hates black people."

Girl would ask me what I was supposed to be for Halloween.

"George Bush hates black people."

Host of the party would punch me in the face for sleeping with his girlfriend.

"George Bush hates black people."

Cops would show up.

"George Bush hates black people."

Puking afterwards.

"George Bush hates black people."

Why don't I have a keychain thingy that says, "George Bush hates black people?"

Napoleon Dynamite? Feh! Kanye West, baby!

That or Pat Morita.

"Pat Morita hates black people."




Wednesday, November 23, 2005



On 11/25/05, I Will Be Asleep In A Cryogenic Tube Dreaming About Koi Playing Lazer Tag To The Mos Eisley Cantina Jazz Ditty...


Buy Nothing Day



UPDATE: I suck. The end. No, wait - there's more...If the pic doesn't show up above, I'm not gonna change it because I'm unmotivated and technologically inept. So, the red, little cross in the box thing's as fancy as it's gonna get. Question, though...Does buying something on EBAY count? Does prostitution count? Poker? iTunes? Blargh? Feh? Meh? Blah? Oi!






Fight Club...



Fight to stay awake.
Be a cordial host.
Laugh at jokes.
Offer cocktails.
Constantly clean up.
Do not pass gas.
Do not collect $200.
Go directly to jail.

Fight to stay awake.

Be a cordial host.




Monday, November 21, 2005



A Safe Bet...

If you want to get on a bartender's bad side - come to his bar after a major sporting event. Make sure you've had a lot of drinks, yell about statistics for hours and make sure that you tell me repeatedly that you're hungry, even though the bartender isn't serving food.

Okay? Thanks.

GO CHARGERS!!! WHOOOOOO!!!! BELCH! FART! WHOOOOO!!!!!




Thursday, November 17, 2005



Found In A Notebook...

Sometimes I'm jealous of the Helen Keller-types.

The deaf might have it easy because at least you know that the only voices that you're going to hear in your head are your own.









Mars...

So dry today
feels like fiery chopsticks up the nose
eyes like wrinkly prunes
it's too bright
my head is the sun
my brain throbs one supernova a second
my mouth is moist like compost

Mars in November




Tuesday, November 15, 2005



For all of you political junkies...

Kenneth Starr came in to my work today. Wheee! I stole a couple of his french fries before he got his food too. Seriously, if Elvira or even Charo came in - I would've been more excited. Every politician just looks old and white. Oh wait...they all are old and white, huh?




Monday, November 14, 2005



That Means You, India...

Next time I'm on here, I'm going to ask all of my creepy lurkers to tell me who they are. Foreigners, of course, creep me out even more than my usual gang of piggy Americans. Prostitutes intrigue me also.

Just because.






And I Watched Oprah Too...

Farting in the office.

Not a good idea, Kev.

Hi boss!




Saturday, November 12, 2005





I took a Cab Van with a bunch of friends to a birthday party on Saturday night. The GPS driving screen thing inside the van was impressive. The Tom and Jerry cartoons playing on the dvd player were also, but you wanna know what really impressed me about the whole ride?

The Debbie Gibson that the cab driver was playing and then proceeded to turn up even LOUDER as we got noisier.

Debbie Gibson. Seriously. The driver could've turned around and then vomited blood all over the front of my jacket and I still wouldn't of been as thrownback as I was upon hearing Ms. Gibsons horrifically nostalgiac Electric Youth-y voice.

So, I got drunk. er.






Tasslehoff Burrfoot...

so
you sit here STARING
duh
arghh
what are we all doing
wasting time
and eating preservatives
prolonging the inevitable
ingesting empty calories
getting fat full of nothing

while we waste away




Thursday, November 10, 2005



Attention: Self

By the time you read this - you will be drunk.

Thank you.




Tuesday, November 08, 2005



I Hate Cake.

No, not the band. I like them. I hate cake, the dessert.

I hate when I'm at work and there's some extra cake left from a party or something and everybody else who works there hides pieces in the kitchen for themselves for later. I hate how people treat it like gold. They throw their hands up in the air, they get a fanatical look on their faces and start to run towards it.

What's it like, fucking gold? Shit, I'll make it myself. I've seen kids just practically poop themselves when you mention it. They have to be coerced into finishing their actual meal. Like their hamburger or pizza is so horrible to get through.

I mean...it's cake. Like Betty Crocker cake. You can buy it. You can get one decorated. Cake. CAKE! This isn't The Soviet Union. We don't live in the middle ages. People go to IHOP and practically eat cake for breakfast, so what's the deal? It drives me apeshit to see people going nuts over cake. Especially when they're full. Just eating cake because it exists? It's like having sex with a fat hooker because you have a free coupon. Fat hooker? Cake? CAKE!!!

I'm going to become a baker and just keep on having employees just shoot that shit right outside the building. It'll fly out of an iron chute and skid all across the street. I'll laugh watching all of the traffic accidents. SUV'S will flip over, fire hydrants will be knocked over, there'll be a pile of cars that reaches to the sky because there's FREE CAKE. FREE FUCKING CAKE EVERYONE, LOOK! YEAH, LOOK AT IT - RIGHT OVER THERE, IT'S FREE, I TELL YA' AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!

CAKECAKECAKECAKE!!!!!!




Saturday, November 05, 2005

Wednesday, November 02, 2005



BACKGROUND BAR PEOPLE have changed places some. Some new. Some the same. Some are still in the same place but have more glasses and bottles around them and are obviously drunker. Maybe the bar has more people in it. Maybe it doesn’t depend on the bar and the time.

But KEN and KESEY are getting very drunk.



KEN- Y’ know, I’m gonna make this into one of my screenplays…no – a play first because…

KESEY – Why?

KEN – If I can do it on – wait – what? Why what?

KESEY – Geez. Wait, why don’t you. Ummm…why?

KEN – Why what? What do you mean? Whymakeitintoafucking-

KESEY – Why write about shit before it’s done? Why don’t you write about something already done instead of preying on your real emotions and circumstances and just tooling around with what you already know as opposed to what you don’t? Why play the waiting game and just work with what you know? Maybe that’s why you haven’t really done anythi-

KEN – Why I haven’t done anything- Dude, I’ve done a lot of shit. I have…

KESEY – Yeah, I know what you’ve done, and it’s cool and all, but you’re getting older. Older. Seriously. You talk and talk about stuff and that’s great and all and you have a million good ideas but why not be fucking Da Vinci or Ben Franklin and just be Harper Lee or Catcher In The Rye?

Ken – What? Catcher In the Rye?

Kesey – What ever his name was.

KEN – Is. His name is

KESEY - Whatever.






Chris T.

That would be neat to be named Chris and then have a last name that starts with T, huh? I would always just use the initial for my last name. My frends would write to me in letters, "Jesus, Chris T!"

Sorry. I'm bored.

I need to write a list for myself:
Comic book store
Return Land Of The Dead and Dominion
Organize all of that crap that you're going to ship
Get a Money Order
Call the skydiving place
Call your mother. Ummm...okay. Suuuurrrreee.
Don't be this boring ever again.




Monday, October 31, 2005



The Sad Thing Is...

That I think that I spend more time talking about other peoples relationships or just philosophizing in general about the nature of the beast than actually spending time with my significant other.

It's kind of like being a sign-language teacher and not realizing that passing motorists are flipping you off on your way to work.




Sunday, October 30, 2005



Wrecking Crew...

Arghhh.

The only good thing about L.A. is the people living in it.




Thursday, October 27, 2005



My Ancestors Would Be Proud...

I hate being busy. I hate doing things. I hate going in public places. I hate being around people. I don't like to do things that're proposed to me by others. I'd rather slowly stir those things around and see how I feel about them later. I feel like I've done it all before, I know what to expect and that nothing is new to me.

I don't like to exercise, walk, hike or go to the gym. I hate the mall. I hate to shop and would rather not go than to just look around. I hate parking lots and hate how people drive. I hate the internal combustion engine. I hate loud noises. I hate car horns. I hate screeching. I hate wailing sirens and people yelling out, "Fuck You's!" to each other as they accelerate away.

I don't like working. I hate stifling sparks of creativity and, if you're lucky, making do with scribbling down that amazing idea on a nearby scrap of paper and cramming it into your pocket because you can't write more about it at work. I hate rules. I hate the hot smell of paper that comes out of the copier. I hate file cabinets. I hate food. I hate tips. I hate cranky, ass old people. I hate people in a hurry. I hate fat guts. I hate having too many options when I call customer service. I hate that the same woman's recorded voice is on the phone regardless of what department I call because it's just like seeing the same commercial on the TV every single time you turn it on.

I hate. I'm unmotivated. I'm lazy. I have no drive. No will. No discipline. I hate.

Yes, I do.

But I love this post. Yes. I love it. And I love this Coca-Cola over here to my right. I love that I just wasted 17 minutes doing something that I shouldn't be doing and that nobody can take that time back from me because I've already spent it.

I love it.




Monday, October 24, 2005



And His Brother Gandalf...

Dude. Full on just saw a guy's paperwork and his name is...Merlin.

Fucking Merlin.

He's married too.

Can you imagine being married to Merlin?

What's their house look like?

Does he ever get ID'd at Rennaisance Fairs? Or maybe Medieval Times?

Merlin. So awesome. Or so mean, I don't know.




Sunday, October 23, 2005



Richard Fell...



I think that the ankle's not broken
but my drunken, youthful exhuberance is
my confidence in this body is as brittle as my bones

I am now strapped to this computer
yet, I am told by my girlfriend that
we are having friends over for dinner

X-rays tomorrow
my underarms are already sore from the crutches

I feel like Mr. Glass fron Unbreakable.
I feel like Mr. Stupid-Head from October 2005.




Saturday, October 22, 2005



No More Golfing For Me...

3 A.M. in the park across the street. Drunk w/ a neighbor. I fell getting more golf balls. Now I won't have a limp anymore because I might've broken my LEFT ANKLE NOW.

Yay! Crutches again!!!!!




Wednesday, October 19, 2005



No More Vodka Redbulls For me...



The cement fairies must've poured cement in my ears while I was sleeping last night. I can't even focus. Let alone put together sentences - but I'll try...

Saw a friend at my girlfriend's work yesterday as he was picking something up to go. He said that he was buckling down and training at a mortgage company. Kind of surprising to me considering how arty he is. I started to tell him about the new, other thing that I've been doing when I'm not serving and bartending. We talked about both getting older and needing real jobs and more money, blah blah blah. After he left, I thought about how boring our two new jobs sounded. How old and unoriginal - but totally necessary. Especially for two college dropouts. I started to think about what some of my other friends were doing too. Mutual funds. English teacher. Graphic design. Commercial insurance. Printing. Legal video documentation. Flight attendant. Fed Ex. Bartenders. Servers. Bouncers. Boring.

I tried to be good and think harder. Surely some of my friends must be doing unique and wondrous things? Okay. We had one commercial jet pilot. Ummm...a couple of people in pretty popular bands, all right. Uhhh...nothing else?

No porn stars? No gourmet chefs with popular daytime TV series? No comic book artists, no founders of cults, no dolphin trainers?

What happened? Am I forgetting some of my friend's interesting jobs? Does a friend of mine having an interesting job, somehow, in a way, validate my mundane existence? Does our being in our late twenties, stuck somewhere in the thirties or maybe passing forty years old pretty much make us old? Does this mean that this is it? Get a job, even if it's boring because the relationship, starving child's mouth or empty wallet demand it? Is an interesting life sometimes defined by what one does when out of the workplace or when one has the time to be themselves?

Do I only exist off the clock?

My head is mushy. My skin is hot. My left butt cheek aches, for whatever reason - I don't know, and my eyes aren't focusing well. I think it's time to put my brain to bed and to get through the next 2 hours and 12 minutes.

Then it's time to go home.

After the comic book store, of course. Ha. I'm a nerd.




Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Monday, October 17, 2005



Palm Trees On Fire Smell Like Smog...

This lightning's burning them up out here
Power went out
and I just sat here in the darkness
not knowing what to do

A man in a tie
sold me an art set for ten dollars
and told me that it was just hailing

The power went back on
and then I got sad
the lights now seemed brighter than before
and I missed the darkness

I want more lightning now
I want the L.A. Riots in O.C.
I want Palm trees on fire that smell like smog

I want to type BLARGH




Friday, October 14, 2005



My Brain Is Dying...

After work I went to the corner store to buy a six pack of Coke. Minutes after that, on the way home I stopped at the gas station. I came home and realized as I was putting them away that I BOUGHT TWO six-packs and didn't even realize it. I got nothing else. What the hell is happening to me? I'm like Charlie from Flowers For Algernon. After the operation, when he starts to become retarded again. Except, I guess in my case - I was always dumb and now I'm just getting dumber.

I think this beats the time when I was at the front door and trying to find my house keys and then realized that they were still in my car while the car was running.

doi




Thursday, October 13, 2005



I Have Found An ANTI-wormhole...

Time is slowly stretching
one minute becomes ten
ten to thirty
30 to 60
all numbers
big chunk of rock
cut down to sand fragments




Wednesday, October 12, 2005



Excerpt From A Speech By Me...

It's only October 12th, and I already can't wait for Christmas to be over.




Monday, October 10, 2005



Excerpt from a Speech by Bill Watterson @
Kenyon College, Gambier Ohio, to the 1990 graduating class.


"It's surprising how hard we'll work when the work is done just for ourselves. And with all due respect to John Stuart Mill, maybe utilitarianism is overrated. If I've learned one thing from being a cartoonist, it's how important playing is to creativity and happiness. My job is essentially to come up with 365 ideas a year.
If you ever want to find out just how uninteresting you really are, get a job where the quality and frequency of your thoughts determine your livelihood. I've found that the only way I can keep writing every day, year after year, is to let my mind wander into new territories. To do that, I've had to cultivate a kind of mental playfulness.

We're not really taught how to recreate constructively. We need to do more than find diversions; we need to restore and expand ourselves. Our idea of relaxing is all too often to plop down in front of the television set and let its pandering idiocy liquefy our brains. Shutting off the thought process is not rejuvenating; the mind is like a car battery-it recharges by running.
You may be surprised to find how quickly daily routine and the demands of "just getting by: absorb your waking hours. You may be surprised to find how quickly you start to see your politics and religion become matters of habit rather than thought and inquiry. You may be surprised to find how quickly you start to see your life in terms of other people's expectations rather than issues. You may be surprised to find out how quickly reading a good book sounds like a luxury."


At school, new ideas are thrust at you every day. Out in the world, you'll have to find the inner motivation to search for new ideas on your own. With any luck at all, you'll never need to take an idea and squeeze a punchline out of it, but as bright, creative people, you'll be called upon to generate ideas and solutions all your lives. Letting your mind play is the best way to solve problems.
For me, it's been liberating to put myself in the mind of a fictitious six year-old each day, and rediscover my own curiosity. I've been amazed at how one ideas leads to others if I allow my mind to play and wander. I know a lot about dinosaurs now, and the information has helped me out of quite a few deadlines.
A playful mind is inquisitive, and learning is fun. If you indulge your natural curiosity and retain a sense of fun in new experience, I think you'll find it functions as a sort of shock absorber for the bumpy road ahead.


So, what's it like in the real world? Well, the food is better, but beyond that, I don't recommend it.




Saturday, October 08, 2005



Off the top of my head...



even though i love alec empire - when he talks all of his revolutionary/german political stuff - I'm at a loss. He's just too vague. But he rocks. Kind of like Elvis Presley and Hitler beating the shit out of each other while one sings and the other yells at the top of his lungs.

this is the first time that I've worn a sweater in a long, long time. I'm happy about this, but I should feel a lot cooler than I feel right now, because i feel like a dork. I wanted to wear something dark, scary, fashionably wrong or just plain boring - but sitting here looking like I do - just makes me feel like I'm an older boy writing a bunch of shit on a computer while the girlfriend gets ready. But I do have my fingernails painted - so maybe I'm not that old - just kind of retarded.

read warren ellis' Fell and/or Desolation Jones comic books. do it.

man, i love those nights when nothing's really happening and then you return the phone calls of a couple of friends (something that I'm trying to do w/ more regularity) and then it just turns into a whole shashed bang job of getting straight-pissed and then you wake up all head-thudded and w/ a friend on the couch asleep and then you take him home and remember that you have pictures of him putting his balls into Michelle's really expensive, fancy heels in your camera. this was w/ her permission, of course.

durka durka! what movie is that quote from?

my back still hurts from lifting a box of comic books last week

i dread bartending tomorrow night

my girlfriend is taking TWO hours to get ready and by the time that we arrive at the bar - it will be late. I'll have four drinks combined w/ the million that I'm having right now, and then when the bar closes and she's ready to pass out due to her two total drinks - I'll want to keep on going. This will cause some drunken strife. She'll also be up at 8 in the morning and I will be squealing like a freshly-shucked newborn from the vagina of a sweaty mother. I will regret that last sentence tomorrow morning when I re-remember it.

i like dean martin. much. not as much as drinking, but much. those last two words sounded like I was saying BUTT MUNCH. If you had a BUTT MUNCH for LUNCH then it would be a BUTT MUNCH LUNCH.

I need to stop this before Blogger eats it, and I do too.

get bloody pissed tonight, folks.

for me. just don't beat anybody up.




Friday, October 07, 2005



Bloc Party...

April (friend, not the month) had left. I started to watch The Peter Jennings Collection: Disc 1 with the girlfriend, who, of course, fell asleep. Right when we we're getting to the special report on Ecstasy and on the report about the history of the L.A.P.D. too! I bet when the Martians land and I have documented proof to show her on DVD - Sleeping Beauty'll miss that also, so no big deal.

Tony had flaked on me earlier. He was supposed to come over hours ago to pick up most of the old comic books of his that I was going to sell on eBay but never got really around to because I've got too many of mine that I'm trying to do the same to also.

Just a minute ago, Tom/friend and neighbor - scared the shit out of me while I was smoking in my backyard.

So. Mr. White Shirt Lead Guitarist Tony and Mr. Black Shirt Singer Tom are tonight's flake and boogeyman. I curse them. Watch them and curse them. Ask them to apologize while you watch this.

ENJOY...




Thursday, October 06, 2005



So, I just realized...

That because I forgot money
and because I'm a poor bastard

instead of snacking on chips
and downing Coke after Coke at the office job

I'm drinking some green tea
and eating an apple.

Hippie.






Po...

Paid rent.
Went to the 7-11 before work to get much needed caffeine.
Realized I had 34 cents.
Am not alert.
Am very poor.




Tuesday, October 04, 2005



From Far Away, They Sound Like Angels. But, The Closer I Get, The More They Sound Like Braking Trains...



tonight
I got hit
by another driver
when I was driving to the gas station

I hit my head against my window frame
but I've been hit harder than that
so it wasn't that big of a deal

after getting his info
I put all of the paperwork crap in my car
and then started to walk inside to buy beer

Gas for MY internal combustion engine
not for the Toyota

I heard a smack
the poor, stupid bastard
had backed up into a black SUV
a Japanese family spilled out of it
looking confused

I stood there
no way, I thought
no fucking way
this guy just hit another car?

I stood there
nobody paid attention to me
I went inside and got my beer
came back out

I stood there
asked if the family needed a witness to the accident
the wife nodded no slightly

I stood there
then shrugged my shoulders
and got back into my car

I drove away laughing
and could hear the guy
cursing into his cell phone as I left

I rubbed my head
put on my blinker
turned right
went straight
turned on my blinker
turned right
then parked in my driveway

I was smiling
as I searched for my housekeys
and started to giggle
as I got inside

I closed the door
still shaking my head
relieved

because
somewhere
no matter what
there is always

somebody
having
a worse day
than you




Monday, October 03, 2005



You Are My Sunshine - My Only Sunshine. You Make Me Want To Poke My Fingertips Into My Eyes Until I Reach The Knuckles...

Stupid Internet.

For the last couple of hours tonight, I have seen many beautiful things because of your technological and very fresh, content-friendly existence.

This is why I hate you.

My OCD and sick curiousity loves you.

But the shit that I should've been writing - wants to eat your entrails like a German does sausages.




Saturday, October 01, 2005



Happy Birthday To Fat Free Milk...

Three years of brilliance?

Or three years of wasted time?

Three years of both, huh?








The Straw...

It's funny that I threw out my back while lifting a box of comic books.

Old man.

Young man.

Just plain sad.

Ow.